


First You Dream

by RainFlame



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff and Humor, General, Romance, Royai Week 2020
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:02:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24666571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainFlame/pseuds/RainFlame
Summary: A collection of one-shots for Royai Week 2020. Featuring predominantly blind!Roy and Riza. Some angst, some fluff, some humor.Prompt One Summary: The world is not the only thing Roy is  navigating blind.
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34





	First You Dream

Roy held the letter in his bandaged hands, noting the smoothness of the envelope, how it felt cool against his fingertips, the faint indentions of pen strokes rolling and looping under his touch. It was one of those squared, unofficial ones, the kind that didn't come from the military but from friends and family. For all that he could discern though, he could not tell what it said, or even who sent it.

He missed the days when he was only useless in the rain.

He held it in front of his face, like the words could somehow bypass his blind gaze and be absorbed straight into his brain. When that didn't work, he sighed and slouched in his chair, tapping the letter idly against his leg.

He waited patiently—or so he thought—but Riza had dropped the stack of papers on the coffee table a while ago with the promise of returning and had not been back since. In her absence, he had grown bored and begun rifling through the mail himself, trying to guess as to their source by touch alone. The long, folded stack had to be the _Central Times_ , and he thought he recognized the weight of a few bills. Another bearing the raised seal of Amestris signaled some sort of work document, but this small, innocuous envelop captured his interest.

Something clanged in the kitchen, drawing Roy's attention to Riza as she set about making lunch. He was both miffed that he'd been left behind for so long, and that she had left a mystery like this envelope behind unexplained.

Roy was a patient man, but there were so few points of interest in his dark world anymore. One of those points was Riza, and the other was _this stupid letter_ and he wanted answers.

He blatantly, firmly ignored the quiet voice in the back of his head that whispered how helpless he was, needing Riza to read his mail. How long would she put up with that? With any of this?

With a growl, he reached beside him, feeling for the walking stick he'd left propped against the table. He had only been out of the hospital for two weeks, and Riza only one, but she had insisted on using her medical leave to help Roy grow more accustomed to his disability. She was there from sunup until he ordered her home, and she still didn't leave until Breda or Falman came to take over for the evening. He was growing weary of being babysat, but not of Riza's company. If he had known she would be in the kitchen for so long, he would have asked to come with her.

Tentatively, he swept the stick in front of him, the narrow end smacking against a piece of furniture he assumed to be the couch, and it took him a moment to map out exactly which direction he needed to go from there. It was strange how being robbed of his sight could suddenly make him a stranger in his own home.

Slowly, he shuffled forward, one sore hand weakly grasping the stick and the letter, the other held in front of him to spare his nose from anymore unfortunate encounters with the walls. He followed his memory and the sounds of garlic chicken sizzling on the stove, becoming more confident when his shins didn't encounter any obstacles.

Then, something caught against his toe, bending it at a particularly painful angle. He let out a yelp, yanking his foot from the ground reflexively. The quick motion of it set his black world spinning around him and he overcorrected, stumbled, then fell hard to the ground.

"Roy!" Riza's voice called into the darkness. It was amazing how blackness could _spin_.

" 'm fine," he huffed into the carpet. It wasn't his first fall, and unfortunately would not be his last. He brought a hand under him, pushing himself up and wincing through the motion as it put pressure on his healing hands. His toe throbbed mercilessly, and he pressed it into the carpet to try to relieve some of the throbbing pain.

Suddenly, Riza was beside him, her soft fingers gripping under his elbow to help him up, the scent of spring and her lavender shampoo emphasizing the closeness of her. He fought down the urge to run his hands through her hair once he was standing again, briefly wondering if she'd worn it up or down today. "Sir, we've talked about this." She sounded completely exasperated, her warm voice rendered raspy by her own healing injuries. "You're walking too fast."

"I was in a hurry to be with you," he said by way of defense. He wished he could see her cheeks tinged with pink at the comment—she was delightfully easy to fluster when she was unprepared— but he had to settle for her weary sigh. She picked up one of his hands in hers, then placed his walking stick into his palm before he got too excited about it.

"And while I'm here picking you up off the floor, the chicken is burning," she said, grabbing his other hand, and he brightened when she didn't simply release it. "Come on, Roy."

He loved the way she said his first name; the intimacy of it, the knowing.

"Wait, I dropped something," he said, gesturing vaguely to the floor.

Fabric rustled as she bent down, or so he assumed by the way her hand twisted in his. "A letter?" she asked.

"Yes. Who sent it?"

"It says 'Elric.' That leaves only a couple of options."

Roy's lips quirked at that. He felt an excitement stir in his chest at the thought of the Elric brothers writing. Ed was loath to visit, as any amount of time outside of the hospital was time away from his little brother's side, and Al would be stuck in the hospital for at least another month if not two. Roy missed them both—even Ed, as annoying as he could be.

"Could you read it?"

"Let me save the chicken first."

She led him into the kitchen by hand. He heard a chair scrapping tile, then her hands on his shoulders, gently guiding him to sit. He did with the utmost trust, only floundering a bit to find the table's edge. Paper hissed gently as she set the letter down on the scarred, worn tabletop, then headed back into Roy's small kitchen.

She puttered around a bit more, and he could picture the way she looked in his mind's eye; the gentle curve of her spine as she lifted the cast iron skillet from the stovetop, a pale hand brushing her bangs from her eyes as she caramelized carrots in another pan, the light from his kitchen window making her sherry eyes shine.

For all he knew though, it could have been cloudy.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, propping up his elbow and resting his chin on his knuckles. The position hurt his hand though, so he settled for leaning against the edge of the table.

"Just fine, Sir," she answered.

"You're not getting lightheaded, are you?"

He could hear the eyeroll in her voice that she was far too dignified to ever physically enact. "I will let you know if I do."

"Hmm," Roy hummed in his throat. "I don't want you working yourself too hard. You're on medical leave, after all."

"If you will save me from the strain of picking you up off the floor, it would help tremendously."

Roy pouted. "Picking on the blind man? That's pretty low, Lieutenant."

"So is the floor."

"Cruel."

He heard her smirk now, sharp and self-satisfied. "Maybe I will lay off if you eat your lunch without making fun of my cooking." A sharp _thunk_ indicated a plate being set before him, and she would probably already have cut it up for him into smaller, more manageable pieces. He tried to push away the flush of humiliation that burned his face at the thought and tried to instead relish the fact that she was near, here in his house, almost in the way he always wanted it.

But not like this.

She settled into the chair next to him, ready to intervene if he was unable to feed himself again. After his hands had been run through, his fine motor skills were abysmal at best, and using small utensils like forks or pens sometimes left his hands spasming in such a way that he was unable to continue without assistance.

It was all in all both painful and very embarrassing, another blow to his dwindling dignity, and Riza was the only highlight, even if she had to see him this way.

He heard paper rustling. "It's from Edward," she said, a note of hesitancy in her voice.

It took Roy a moment to realize what she was talking about. "The letter?"

"Yes." More hesitation.

"That bad, huh?"

". . . worse."

Was that . . . embarrassment in her voice?

Against all of his better judgement, Roy sighed. "Well, go ahead Lieutenant."

"Sir," she said with a great deal of reluctance.

_"Dear Colonel Idiot, congratulations on your release from the hospital. It's been a little quiet without you here to yell at, but Al thinks it's peaceful. He's also begging for you to come get me out of his hair for a few hours, but we all know that's not going to happen._

_"You asked for me to update you on Al's condition. He's gained eight pounds since you checked out, and his physical therapy is coming along. He says to let you know that he misses you guys and to stop by and visit. As the elder brother, I'd like to revoke that invitation from you specifically. You're not invited._

_"You also asked to be kept in the loop on my progress. They've technically released me, though I've still got a lot of therapy to go to get my right arm in shape. Either way, I'll be sticking around the hospital until Al's out."_

Riza stopped.

"That's it?" Roy asked. That wasn't nearly as painful as she'd made it out to be. It was almost polite, by Ed's standards.

"No, sir," she said with a sigh. "There is one more paragraph."

With mounting dread, Roy waited for her to gather herself.

 _"One last note,"_ she continued reading. _"If you're reading this, that means you're having someone else read it to you out loud. I'm going to bet cenz that that someone is the Lieutenant. And if she's reading it to you aloud and you've gotten this far, that means you two are alone, so why don't you go ahead and confess your love to her already and stop stalling. Most sincerely, Fullmetal."_

The loudest silence Roy had ever heard stretched between them.

Well.

Roy could imagine his face was about four shades of red, and he was almost thankful he couldn't see Riza's reaction. His ears were on fire, and he ran his sore hands through his disheveled hair just to give them something to do. "How . . . nice of him to write."

"Very," she agreed tersely.

He cleared his throat. "I can't argue with his sentiments, but his delivery is terrible."

He wasn't quite sure what caused him to pursue such a bold course, but something about it felt right, and if he knew anything about navigating disquieting situations, he knew to listen to his gut.

She paused, and he listened carefully, trying to gauge her reaction by sound alone. "Sir," she protested, "I don't think it's appropriate—"

"Fullmetal is a lot of things, but appropriate isn't one of them."

"You know what I mean."

He reached out in front of him, finding her hands and holding them, the same way he might have held her gaze under different circumstances. She resisted his grip only for a second before allowing him to intertwine his aching fingers in between hers. "Riza," he said. "Fullmetal is an ineloquent buffoon, but he makes a valid point. We've got a very unique opportunity here."

"Sir, the law—"

"Is not going to mind a couple of officers on medical leave sharing a moment of honesty in my kitchen," he finished softly.

When she didn't flinch or otherwise shoot him, he continued.

"I understand that I must be quite the sight to behold right now," he said, trying hard to keep the self-depreciation out of his voice, "but nothing has changed for me. If it weren't for the law—"

"Don't."

Her sudden protest startled him.

Nothing had changed for him, but maybe . . . could things have changed for her?

It had been so long since he'd been alone with her. Between her transfer, and all the fighting and recovery, it seemed like the past few months had been a whirlwind. Maybe at some point during that time, she'd lost interest. He couldn't blame her, of course. After all, what hope could a blind man possibly have to change the country? How could he keep his promise to her like this?

What if the only reason she was here was out of duty? Some misplaced sense of guilt?

The depression he'd been teetering on the edge of for over two months threatened to swallow him in that moment. He released her hands, then cleared his throat, feeling like a fool and worse. All of the shameless flirting he'd done over the past week . . . no wonder she had been so uncomfortable. "I see. I'm sorry, it seems I've . . . misread the situation."

There was movement from her chair, then it came closer and he could smell lavender again. "You have not misread anything," she said, and she must have been mere inches in front of his face, her warm, sweet breath brushing against his lips.

Her calloused hands came from nowhere, one catching him under the jaw, one sliding around his neck.

This sudden turn of events did wonders for his mood.

His hands moved of their own accord, one wrapping around her waist and drawing her onto his lap, the other cupping the side of her face before running his stiff fingers through her hair—it was down, he _knew_ it—circling back again over her bandaged throat to catch her jaw. Her weight settled against him, strong and steady, and without his sight, he allowed Riza to initiate, her lips meeting his almost chastely. He followed her, eager to escalate the situation, but she pulled back.

Now he was really confused.

With a heavy sigh, she pressed her forehead against his, their breath intermingling in the small space between them. "I want this," she said softly, her nose brushing his. "I want this more than you can know."

He swallowed thickly. "We can have it."

He felt her shake her head against his. "No. We can have lies and secrets, but we cannot have what I want. Not until the laws change."

Roy stroked her hair, almost hesitantly. "Will you wait?" he whispered. "Will you wait until the laws are abolished?"

"I will wait for you as long as it takes," she promised. "But I will not settle for half of what we should have. I will wait until I can have all of it."

"And until then?"

"I will be your most trusted subordinate."

His laugh was more sad than not, almost a sob. "Well. I'd better ask Fuhrer Grumman to get started on the laws that really count."

"You'd better," she agreed. Her closed lips met his one more time, a gentle pressure that he returned, savoring this contact with the woman was irrevocably, madly in love with.

Then she pulled away from him entirely. The chair across from him squeaked as she settled into it once more, leaving him feeling too light and too heavy all at once, already missing her grounding weight against him. "Your food is going to get cold," she reminded.

He started to reply, only to have a piece of chicken stuffed in his mouth.

He blinked, then gave an indignant scowl as he began to chew, swallowing it all too soon. "Firstly Riza, it's burned."

"Your fault," she reminded.

"Secondly, I can feed myself."

Something was shoved into his hand, and it took him a moment to realize it was a fork. "Better get to it then, Sir."

Roy offered her what he hoped to be a convincing smirk found his plate with his other hand, delicately gripping the edge as he began to blindly chase chicken and carrots around his plate.

It didn't take very long for his hands to start spasming, and without comment, Riza swiped the fork from the tabletop where it had fallen and pushed another bit of carrot into his mouth.

And she did it all without derogatory comment, and as embarrassed as he was, he was grateful. Roy Mustang did not deserve Riza Hawkeye, and that was that.

He had waited for her for years, and would wait for her for an eternity more if he had to.

But he knew she would be worth the wait.

**Author's Note:**

> I told my muse it was time to sit down and work on DOA and SSB, so it sat in the corner and wrote this to spite me. 
> 
> I have no idea how to write Royai, but I wanted to give it a shot anyways, because I love them and I haven't written for them specifically and explicitly in forever. I'm, frankly, a bit terrified of posting this because I feel like I cannot do these two justice xD Will I do the other prompts? It depends how much I cringe when I go back and reread this :'D UGH I don't even know if this is in character, but I've spent literally all week on the first prompt, sooooo *throws it out there*. EdWin Week burned me out a bit on the posting-ever-day thing, so that's definitely not gonna happen. Maybe I can finish this in June? Unless my muse *pointed glare* does not cooperate. 
> 
> We'll see how it goes xD
> 
> If you have time, please drop a review, and I'll see you next time c:
> 
> God Bless,  
> -RainFlame


End file.
